


Buried in Dust

by Biting_the_Sun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beach House, Bonfire, Comfort/Angst, Derek is Alpha, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Internalized Guilt, M/M, Pack Vacation, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Stiles is hard on himself, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biting_the_Sun/pseuds/Biting_the_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Stiles thought holding it all in was painful, he was wrong.  </p><p>Self-forgiveness felt more painful - like extracting poison, removing dust and allowing light to illuminate places within which had grown dark for too long.<br/>-<br/>A Pack Vacation/Bed Sharing Fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buried in Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cloudyskiesandcurlyfries, who wanted a short pack vacation fic with Stiles and Derek forced to share accommodations.

Buried in Dust   
_Biting_the_Sun_

-o- 

 

Stiles and Derek both stared at the bed.  

This is what happened when all your friends were couples except you. 

Derek crossed his arms. “You should have it.” 

Stiles sputtered. “What! _You_ should take it- I mean, it’s _your_ beach house.” 

“It was my families. And I don’t mind taking the couch.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t mind taking the couch as well.” 

Derek raised his eyebrow, then smirked. “We can’t both take the couch Stiles.” 

Stiles almost wanted to say, ‘ _challenged accepted_ ’, but instead blurted out, “Or we could both sleep on the bed.” 

Silence. 

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s not a big deal for me. I get a bed, you get a bed...I’m fine with it if you are."  

Derek stared at Stiles, then shrugged. “Okay.” 

Stiles let out a held in breath. Yeah, he could pretend it was fine. 

(It wasn’t) 

-o- 

The pack sat around the bonfire on the beach, the sunset a burnt orange over the water. 

This was their first official pack vacation.  

Kira sat on Scott’s lap, both whispering into each other’s ears. Allison and Isaac were laughing with Lydia and Jackson as they watched Erica dump sand down Boyd’s back. Derek looked on with a small, content smile. 

Stiles ignored the empty spot next to him and tried not to feel the chill of the sea. 

He looked over at Derek, and watched the way his shoulders weren’t tensed, saw the easy smile which showed up more than his past scowls.  

Everyone had changed over the past years, grown up faster than they were supposed to, but Derek had changed the most. 

Derek was a good Alpha now. And it showed.  

He took his responsibilities seriously, but allowed himself to rely on his pack. He didn’t keep secrets to himself and always made sure his pack’s needs and wants were met. His guilt and grief had dimmed to a less-destructive level.  

Because he had chosen to heal, to lead and protect his new pack - his new family, rather than bury himself with his past mistakes. 

Stiles wondered if _he_ would ever stop seeing his own mistakes, all the times he wasn’t quick enough, stop seeing Cora’s _dead body in his arms-_  

Derek looked up at Stiles over the bonfire, picking up on the scent of Stiles’ darker musings. 

Then he rummaged through the drink cooler and threw Stiles’ favourite soda to him. 

Stiles caught it, glanced up at Derek, then gave a smile in thanks. 

He looked over at everyone again, at how happy they were, and decided he wouldn’t worry them with his own demons. 

So he opened his soda and drank it all in one go till his throat burned. 

-o- 

Stiles and Derek found themselves staring at the bed again. 

“What side do you want?” 

“Any is fine,’ said Derek. 

They’d already brushed their teeth and changed into loose shirts and shorts. 

Stiles took the left side and Derek took the right side – the side closest to the door. Typical Alpha behaviour. 

Moonlight filtered through the thin cotton curtain, carrying sea breeze through the window. 

Beside him, Stiles could hear Derek getting comfortable, the rustle of sheets and the dip in the mattress. 

Stiles faced the window, and focused on the sound of waves, the billowing of the curtain, anything other than his screaming thoughts. 

 _You’re unworthy. Cora is dead because of you. You’re a burden to the pack._  

His heartbeat pulsed against his ear and the pillow, sweat formed above his brow, and he couldn’t hear the waves anymore, couldn’t focus on staying locked tight- 

A large, warm hand laid itself against Stiles’ neck. 

“Relax Stiles. You’re safe.” 

 _Yeah, but not from_ _my thoughts_ _,_ _not_ _from_ _the truth-_  

Fingers rubbed circles over his pounding pulse. 

So Stiles focused on Derek’s finger pads, rough yet anchoring, big yet not dominating. 

Derek’s voice sounded loud in the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

Stiles blinked hard, then lied. “No.” 

Derek’s fingers continued their gentle presses, almost politely distant, never sending more than comforting signals. 

And that gesture, the freely given comfort, soured and clenched in his stomach – like he was worth the care, worth the effort to be comforted, and _god_  he wanted it, wanted to pretend for _a moment_ _-_  

 _Cora is dead because of you_ _._  

Stiles flinched away. 

Derek immediately pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry- I can leave if you want.” 

Of course Derek would think it was his fault. Of course he’d offer to leave. But Derek should be leaving because Stiles killed his last living relative. 

And all of a sudden, he had to know why Derek didn’t hate him, didn’t blame him, wasn’t disgusted by his mere presence. 

“Why don’t you hate me.” 

Derek pulled his brows inwards into a confused expression. “What?” 

“Why don’t you hate me. Why was I invited to this pack vacation? What am I _doing here?_ ” 

Every word deepened Derek’s expression, as if his words were alien, unfounded truths. “Why would I hate you? You’re pack, of course-” 

Stiles cut in, wanting the rip the scab off the wound. “How can you not _hate_ me after Cora! How can you be anywhere _near me_ when she’s dead _because of me!?_ ” 

Derek’s mouth gaped opened, eyes wide as Stiles’ breath hitched from his outburst, from the ugly truth now released. 

And out of all the things Stiles expected Derek to do, the selfish scenarios where Derek denies it all and comforts him anyway- 

Derek moved away and got off the bed. 

Something in Stiles twisted, unforgivingly tight and cold. 

Derek _did_ hate him. Derek had finally given up pretending everything was fine. 

Stiles closed his eyes and curled within himself. He should have known it wouldn’t be any different, that he’d actually be _forgiven-_  

Footsteps approached Stiles. 

Derek stood with the curtain behind him, then he dropped to his knees, reached his arms out, and pulled Stiles towards him, holding him tight. 

Stiles’ mind went blank. 

Derek’s next words rumbled strong against his neck, pressed lips aiming to sink the words into Stiles’ being- 

“I don’t hate you Stiles. _I could never hate you_.” 

It was like hearing through a screen. He understood the words, but they didn’t _make sense_ , didn’t add up. 

“You tried to save her. You did _everything_ you could- and you almost died Stiles… _you almost died too_.” 

Stiles’ breathing sped up. 

 _It’s not your fault. I could never hate you. You tried to save her._  

And just like that, the wall he’d built to shield himself from sinking, crumbled and fell. 

And it felt like his emotions were bleeding, like they couldn’t stay contained in his self-imposed prison- 

Derek held onto him, feeling every physical _heave_ and _distress_ finally pour out of Stiles. 

And if Stiles thought holding it all in was painful, he was wrong.  

Self-forgiveness felt more painful - like extracting poison, removing dust and allowing light to illuminate places within which had grown dark for too long. 

And Derek stayed till the sobs ran their course, till the moon flew away and the early sun returned. 

And as first light glowed across the room, Derek’s next words were the soothing balm Stiles’ hadn’t realised he needed to hear. 

“The pack is nothing without you Stiles. You’re needed. You’re wanted. And even if you don’t want us, we’ll _always_ want you.” 

 _You’re worthy._  

 _You’re wanted._  

 _You’re needed._  

The brightness of the sun didn’t shine as bright as the conviction in Derek’s voice. It hollowed and buried itself within Stiles, warming him up, enfolding him in acceptance, love- 

And maybe something more. 

Strong arms held him tighter, refusing to let him fall.  

“You’re pack. You’ve always been, and you always will be.” 

 _You’re_ _pack._  

 _And you always_ _will_ _be_ _._

_._

_._

_._

_Thanks for reading <3_

_._  
biting-the-sun.tumblr.com


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